


Take your taste back (peel back your skin)

by frais



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Awkward First Times, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Friends to Lovers, Gaslighting, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frais/pseuds/frais
Summary: Patrick’s voice was on it that night and sometimes he’d look over at Joe with, like, total sex in the eye. He looked like he did when he was getting fucked; red, sweaty, his lips swollen as they crashed against the mic stand. Pete would ruin the moment, generally, by grinding up against Patrick, and the crowd would scream. TTTYG/Apartment era.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I posted anything, so have this!
> 
> This is a total smooshing of a timeline, basically crushing all of 2002-04 into one thing, but I hope you like it anyway lol

Joe never said a word of what he saw the year before. It had been band practice at Pete's parents house late spring. They'd all still been living at home and Pete had the most space. Joe was late, but he could hear Patrick's voice, sort of low. Maybe desperate.

He slid behind the garage door, trying to get a curious look. Patrick and Pete were kissing, which was… like… _weird._ Pete had a girlfriend right now and Patrick, well, Patrick was not that way at all. People always came out to Joe like he was their good honest buddy, but Patrick hadn't been one of them.

But their band was weird. And Joe, well he was always good at keeping secrets anyway. He never spoke of it, but he figured it ended around the time that Patrick quit the band for a week. Joe had better things to do than deal with that particular crisis, like, cram for school and attempt to convince his parents that he didn't need no college education. He couldn't always be Mr Dependable.

Patrick had been back in the band the week after, anyway, last to arrive for a gig, but there all the same. They were doing fairly good, or at least they weren't getting booed off stage anymore. Pete helped because everyone wanted Pete in their band and he was in Joe's. Total badass life he was living, he couldn't lie.

But anyway, the three of them got an apartment together after that summer and Joe was kinda expecting to walk in at some point and catch the two of them at it, but it didn't happen. Pete was obsessed with his new girl and Patrick… Patrick was still the same. They seemed pretty good friends so Joe never thought to bring it up.

 

Patrick and Joe both had jobs right now. Patrick was lording it up in his favorite record store while Joe served up pizza three blocks away. The only thing Patrick was ever prompt for was his dumb job, as if it was, like, special to him or something.

“You ready, Stump?” Joe called into the record store after work. They both were supposed to finish at 5:30. Patrick was behind the register, looking half asleep. He perked up at Joe's voice, waving half-heartedly.

“Yeah, I'm ready.” He looked around, waving at his boss, who nodded his head. “Let's go.”

Patrick was literally the biggest dawdler in the world, which meant Patrick saying “let's go” meant he actually needed a solid five minutes to grab his gear and go. Joe just lent against the stack of weekly releases as he waited.

Sometimes when he was feeling kinda like romantic about his own life, Joe figured this was his favourite time of day. Just he and Patrick, no work, no stale pizza smell or gross living conditions. Just their dumb opinions on the world.

“So I'm like, 99% sure I'm getting a tattoo this Saturday,” Joe said. He was bored of his boring skin and now he was eighteen it was legal and dandy. He had no ideas, only a sense of tattoo purpose.

“Ooh. What of?” Patrick asked as they waited on the platform for the train. His glasses had fingerprint smears over both lenses and Joe was desperate to reach over and wipe them clean, but that would be weird and _“inappropriate”_ so he just let Patrick blink up at him without doing a thing.

“Dunno. Guess I'll pick something out on the day?” Joe laughed. It didn't really matter so long as he finally got to do it.

“One day I might get one too,” Patrick said, but Joe doubted it. Patrick was the least punk rock person he knew. That's why he was so cool. “Can I come watch? I'll let you squeeze my hand if it hurts too much.”

Joe laughed, just as the train drew in. “Sure. I'll hold you to it.”

Pete was listening to Morrissey in Patrick's bedroom when they got back to the apartment, which basically only meant one thing. Patrick gave Joe the most glum of looks before he dropped his glasses and backpack to the table before heading into his bedroom.

To be honest, Joe was kinda glad when Patrick came into their lives and became chief Pete cheerleader. It took its toll on Joe when they toured together with Arma. Though, he supposed, he never had to sleep with Pete like Patrick presumably did. That would be way worse.

Joe wasn't even against the idea of dudes. He sort of liked them. Though sometimes he went off on weird tangents in his head and pictured guys as girls and how attractive he'd find them in different scenarios. Like, Andy would so be the chick with the mullet and the tongue piercing and Joe would so be into that, and Pete, well he'd wear leather, black and too much hairspray and basically look like all the girls he always dated. Absolutely not Joe's type at all.

Patrick would be kinda like a plump German girl from all those old war movies. Plain, but with super pretty hair in pigtails, a pet cow and always down for some fun in the haystack. When Joe was nervous he always thought of that, it made him laugh. Patrick would murder Joe in his sleep if he found out. He had the worst temper at times.

Joe watched TV alone for an hour, wiping Patrick's glasses clean while he was out of the room. Pete left with his hood up an hour later and then Patrick showed his face, looking neither upset or happy, just hungry.

“What you thinking about?” Patrick asked, sitting beside Joe on the couch when he'd piled up a huge bowl of sugary cereal. Joe had been doing his guys-as-girls thing, going a little deeper into it in his boredom.

“Milkmaids.” He answered honestly.

“Right.” Patrick laughed, scooping a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Pete's left me some brutal as fuck lyrics to sort through, but he wants to get back with his girlfriend, so. You know. That will be interesting.”

“That will be murder,” Joe corrected. Patrick let slip a laugh, milk dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Joe looked away, suddenly way too caught up in the thought of milkmaids again.

 

Joe decided on a small tattoo on the underside of his bicep. He figured it was kinda forgettable, kinda easy to cover up when he knew what he actually wanted.

“You should totally get the skull and crossbones. It's seriously punk rock,” Patrick told him, looking over the top of his glasses. He looked out of place in his beige coat, glasses and knitted hat. He also got a cold look off the artist when he said he wanted to sit in.

“I'm eighteen, but I don't need I.D to sit in,” Patrick told the artist, pushing his glasses up his nose and licking his lips. To be fair, Patrick looked about fifteen most of the time. He had I.D too, but he had a serious case of misplacing important shit.

“He'll be good, I'll kick him out myself if he misbehaves,” Joe said. He winked at Patrick, who laughed behind his hand, before taking a seat. “One badass skull and crossbones, please.”

Okay, so it stung like a motherfucker. Way more than Joe figured. He could hardly believe Pete had so much shitty ink when he had such a low pain threshold, but Joe made it through it. Mostly by listening to Patrick list his top ten albums dropped off at the store that week. Joe had only heard of one of the guys, but Patrick was in a heavy jazz mood currently. Joe found it boring to listen to, but Patrick's passion was pretty infectious.

“Is he always like that?” Joe's artist asked, when Patrick shuffled off for a bathroom break. Joe nodded, wincing. Without Patrick around to distract, the pain was intensified.

“He's amazing,” Joe said, a few minutes delayed. Patrick was in his way back, tripping over a chair leg as he did so. They grinned at each other, laughing as Joe made it through the pain for the wonkiest, ugliest skull and crossbones tattoo ever.

“I definitely think it could be worse,” Patrick said, once Joe was bandaged up and they were out of the shop. “At least we know who _not_ to go to next time.”

It was funny so Joe laughed. He didn't really care that it was bad.

 

Their next gig was possibly their worst since Andy had joined. Possibly because two of Pete's exes were, like, conspiring in the audience and giving him weird looks all night. Patrick was off time with the songs which had Andy frustrated because honestly, he and Patrick were usually the decent ones.

“I am the worst. I apologize,” Patrick was flustering backstage. They were surrounded by six foot something assholes in board-shorts. It was a skate festival, not their scene. “I just… the mood felt off from the start.”

“Can't blame an atmosphere on a shitty performance,” Pete said. He looked nervous, Joe understood why. Neither of those relationships had ended well.

Patrick wasn't in the mood for that though. “Well, I _want_ to blame the atmosphere. One time my brother was friends with skaters and they were no good.”

“Only the one time?” Andy asked, indulging Patrick's digressing panic. Joe watched him purse his lips and pace, hands on his hips. Never a great sign.

“They stole his lunch money and beat him up. They stole mine too, and I was only ten. I just wanna say sorry. Can we go back to doing just hardcore shows.”

“I think that's wise.” Joe was on Patrick's side only because things did feel weird. No one seemed that happy at all.

“I'm getting us a tour this summer, guys,” Pete said. “And we won't have to ever do shit like this again.”

“You better mean that,” Andy said, but then he was moving out of the shitty room. “Talk to you later, guys.”

They started to clear their shit out of the room, before any weird fucking skaters tried to turn their guitars into boards. Joe was counting the picks in his pocket, on his final trip to the van, with one of Patrick's beanies pulled down over his hair when he heard voices.

“Dude, I'm sorry.” Joe swiveled his head at the sound of Pete's voice before seeing Patrick and Pete against the side of their van. Joe tucked himself to the other side, figuring he was walking in on something weird again.

“No, it's okay.” Patrick sounded resigned, maybe a little sad. “You could’a warned me she'd be here. I didn't wanna...didn't wanna bring that shit up again. I like it where it was. You know. In the past.”

Pete suddenly laughed. “You're such a fucking drama queen.” Something slammed into the van; a body, then there was the wet sound of kissing. Joe felt something twist inside. Something he didn’t get last year when he saw them.

“You're an asshole.” Patrick's voice sounded low. Deep. Joe moved away from the van, sliding back around into the alleyway between buildings. He didn’t want to come across as a weird-ass stalker.

Joe studied Patrick that night. He wanted to catch hold of what he looked like after being kissed like that by Pete. He was quiet, but he usually was when he thought he’d fucked up a show. He’d sounded pissed at Pete from the other side of the van, but neither of them were biting at each other like they usually did when they were mad.

“Okay, dude, you weren’t _that_ bad,” Joe said to Patrick back at the apartment. Pete was watching TV in his bedroom. Patrick had his door open so Joe wandered in. His room was such a mess that it made Joe a little queasy, but at least it wasn’t filthy like Pete’s. The floor was scattered with records, tapes and CD's. He had pictures of his family all over the shelves. It felt like he was taking a giant leap into Patrick's head every time he looked behind the door.

“I don’t like letting you guys down,” Patrick said softly. His glasses were resting on his forehead as he rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t really fit in with the rest of you guys, but I really like writing music for you.”

“Not that again.” Joe flopped back on Patrick’s bed. “How many times have I told you. You don’t gotta look punk rock to be punk rock.”

Patrick laughed, pulling his glasses off completely and resting them on his nightstand. He rolled onto his side, facing Joe. “I think maybe I just need to sleep it off. Forget about today.”

“You want me to give you some space?” Joe asked, but Patrick shook his head, even as his eyes fluttered closed.

“No. You’re good there.”

 

 

Patrick was a huge mama’s boy. So much so that he always spent Wednesday night back at his mom’s house. He claimed it was because he felt bad leaving her all alone, which was even lamer than saying he missed her. Joe didn’t really understand it, but he wasn't the youngest in his family, maybe his little brother would feel the same.

But it meant that Wednesday nights were Joe and Pete's. Usually it meant Joe bringing back a halfway decent pizza and the two of them watching a movie on the box TV in the living room.

“I never apologized,” Pete said that night, around a mouthful of greasy cheese pizza. Joe frowned at him, not knowing what had happened and why he deserved an apology. “Patrick was yours. I feel like I stole him off you for a bit.”

“Dude, he's, like a real person. I don't think either of us have, like, ownership of him.” Joe sometimes felt it was wise to point these things out. He may be four years younger than Pete, but he had a better idea of respecting boundaries, he couldn't lie.

“Obviously. You discovered him though, bought him into the band. I took that over for a bit, but you guys seem close again. It's good.”

“Yeah. He came with me to get my tattoo.” Joe stretched out his arm. His tattoo was still flaking a little, but it was hideous in all its glory. It somehow still beat the majority of Pete's.

“I've been an ass to him at times.” Oh God, Joe thought. This is the part where Pete confessed his love for Patrick, or that he was fucking him last year. Joe didn't wanna go there. “He's so easy to rile up though.”

“You piss each other off.” Joe tried to choose his words carefully before swallowing down another slice.

“I think I love how weird he is. I think that's the best part about him,” Pete said, but it didn't sound like he wanted Joe to respond, so he just nodded back.

“You wanna watch _Scarface?_ I'm in that kinda mood.” Joe wasn't really, but it helped take his mind off other things.

 

Joe got his lip pierced a few weeks later. He didn't take Patrick with him this time, but when he was icing it back at the apartment, Patrick was staring at it curiously.

“Piercings never appealed to me. Like, putting holes in my body,” Patrick said. He had a guitar in his lap, but he hadn't been playing it the whole while Joe had been home.

“Only ‘cause you're mom wouldn't let you,” Joe laughed but Patrick just shrugged. He wasn't exactly denying it.

“I don't think any of my siblings had a rebellious phase. The Stumphs are a very boring bunch,” Patrick said. He had a great bottom lip, Joe suddenly noticed. Dark pink and full. It'd look terrible with a slither of metal through it, so he was secretly glad he wasn't tempting Patrick.

 

Joe came down one week with a mega awful cold. He was so close to crawling back to his parents house and having his mom pamper him when Patrick burst through Joe's door, planting himself on the bed in a puff of scrunched up soggy tissues.

“Dude. Contagious,” Joe said, but Patrick just shrugged. He had a bowl of something steaming in his lap and a record under his arm.

“When I was at mom's last night I got her to show me how to make her chicken soup.”

“You're a veggie,” Joe said, but Patrick frowned at him for interrupting.

“It's adaptable and it wasn't for me. It was… when I was sick growing up she always made it for me and now you're sick I thought I'd make it for you. It smells the same, so I'm guessing it's good.”

Patrick handed over the bowl and Joe started down at it. He had no taste or smell but it looked comforting. He tried to make yummy noises as took a spoonful. It made Patrick smile so bright that he bit his bottom lip and pushed his glasses up. That kinda warmed Joe's freezing sick body.

“Also I found this at the store. It's got a few scratches so we couldn't sell anyway, but I thought you'd like it.” Patrick held up the record. It was a first edition Metallica, _Ride the Lightening_. Joe had one of the reprints, but it wasn't the same.

“Holy Fuck. That's for me?” he asked, almost spilling his bowl of soup as he took the record. It was beaten around the edges; the cardboard soft and worn but it was, like, the best. “I'll make it up to you one day.”

“No, it's a gift.” Patrick was smiling still and his face was all pink. He'd probably be hot to touch, if Joe was at all able to feel accurate temperatures.

 

After recovering, Joe decided he needed make it up to Patrick somehow. It's not everyday you're given a Metallica original. The thing with Patrick was that his music taste were pretty much his own and for whatever reason, he was super into jazz and Joe knew nothing of it.

“Yeah, but like, who?” Joe asked Pete, who tended to be a little more clued up on Patrick's tastes than him. Pete just shrugged, sitting on the side of his own bed. He hadn't been sleeping if the black circles beneath his eyes was any indication.

“I dunno. I hear him talk, but I don't actually listen,” Pete said, which was kinda shitty, but Joe was just as guilty when it came zoning out when Patrick talked jazz.

So basically Joe was fucked until he was staring at the message board outside Patrick's record store. He called the number and ordered them tickets as he waited for Patrick's shift to close.

“You wanna do something fun Wednesday night?” Joe said, walking into the store ten minutes later. Patrick was staring blankly at a row of easy listening tunes, but he smiled curiously in Joe's direction.

“What kinda fun?”

“I just saw on your advertisements outside, there's like, a jazz festival in a coffee shop Wednesday night. I just got us tickets.”

“But you hate jazz,” Patrick said, looking both excited and confused. He didn't have a hat on and his hair was sticking up at the back. “Why would you go with me?”

“Because you bought me the raddest Metallica vinyl.”

“Technically I didn't buy it,” Patrick lowered his voice, looking borderline shifty. “It would only get taken by my boss and sold to some dude online.”

“Whatever, dude. You gave it to me and you learned how to make soup…I just figured I should return the favor. Unless you don't wanna go.”

“Of course I wanna go. Thank you so much!” Patrick jumped up for a hug. In their reflection in the window, Joe could see how Patrick was on the tips of his toes as they hugged it out. It made him feel all whooshy inside. He tried to hug it away, but it only made it stronger.

As the show fell on a Wednesday it meant they'd be sleeping at Patrick's moms house. She insisted Joe stay over as well. It meant a train ride out of the city to get there, but Joe was kinda glad for it. Pete had made up with his girlfriend and they could be so loud.

The coffee shop was the type to only sell fancy-ass coffee so Joe tried his luck with something new, trying to understand what the big deal with it was. Patrick drank herbal tea, which was even worse, but it was his thing.

“If the band doesn't make it, maybe I'll just buy a coffee shop like this. It seems kinda cool,” Patrick said. He was in a white t-shirt under his beige jacket and no hat. Joe was in his usual getup, band shirt, jeans. For the first time he felt like the one out of place. They were about ten years younger than everyone else too.

“What's you're favorite jazz record?” Joe asked. He only knew the basics and, like, Kenny G, but Patrick had violently insisted to Pete once that he didn't count.

“It changes all the time. Right now it's _You Must Believe in Spring_ by Bill Evans. It's like the saddest shit ever. It's all very suicidal, and sometimes I kinda cry about it.” Patrick paused and then frowned. “Don't tell anyone I said that. I know it's lame.”

“It's not the lamest thing you've ever said,” Joe joked. Patrick's nose scrunched up and his ears went pink, but Joe just drank his burnt coffee instead of teasing him.

It turned out that Joe actually quite liked jazz, so long as it was played live in a coffeehouse with Patrick beside him. There was something about the mood it put him in, almost like he was being held captive, but in a good way. It was weird, not like the shows they played at all.

“Okay, so that was actually amazing,” Joe said afterward, as they walked from the station to Patrick's mom's house. He could still hear the music in his ears, could still hear it in his blood. Maybe there was something funky in the bad coffee. He didn't know.

“There's nothing I like more than playing our music at the shows we do, but like, the music we just heard is art. That's what I think, anyway,” Patrick said softly. He was cold, his voice sounding all shaky. Joe wanted to give him his jacket, but then he wouldn't have one, and it wasn't his fault Patrick's coat wasn't warm enough. That would probably make it a date anyway.

“You wanna play music like that?” Joe asked, but Patrick shrugged, looking down at his toes.

“I'd never be good enough to play like that. I'm way more of an admirer. You have to be open with your emotions too, and I'm not into that.” Suddenly Joe thought to the relationship between Patrick and Pete, whether Patrick's emotions had broken them, but Joe didn't know. Patrick was one of the most emotive dudes he knew, everything was always written over his face.

Patrick's mom was in bed by the time they reached her house, but she'd left them veggie lasagna in the oven and they ate it up with glee. Patrick's glasses steamed up with the heat, but he just plucked them off his face and dropped them lenses down onto the table.

“Does this remind you of last year?” Patrick said when they were in his bedroom. His single bed from last year had been replaced by a double and his mom had painted over the blue walls with a lilac. “Pretending to do our homework together?”

“But instead talking about all the bands we wanted to tour with?” Patrick had at least pretended to like pop punk last year, but he'd been over it for a while. Joe was way more of a metalhead anyway, but it was weird being in a band with a guy that didn't really like the type of music they played.

“Thanks for letting me be in the band,” Patrick said. He had a little bit of a tummy and it curved out over the top of his jeans. When he realized Joe was looking, he moved his hands over it. “I'm, like, so grateful, even if I don't seem it.”

“You always sound grateful, you're just different to the other dudes on the scene.”

“No tattoos.” Patrick touched Joe's bicep, where his shitty tattoo was on display. “No piercings.” His finger touched gently to Joe's mouth before dropping away.

“Yeah, and like the lack of wild hair, height and tight pants is telling too,” Joe smiled at Patrick, who nodded back. They felt like a weird band, like Patrick should be the one hidden behind the drum-kit and Pete should be up front, pouring his guts out instead of having Patrick do it for him. Try as he might, Pete couldn't sing for shit. Joe had to hear him every Thursday night when he had his weekly shower.

“If we do get a tour this summer, I think we'll make it.” They'd written the album already, which had been hell on earth with Pete and Patrick in the studio, but it was a pretty fun record to play, providing they were all in sync and weren't booed too much.

Patrick fell asleep before Joe. He was like a warm cuddly rock once sleeping, you couldn't wake him up for anything. Joe laid there, in Patrick's childhood bedroom, listening to Patrick's soft breathing and trying to let it pull him under.

When he woke up, Patrick was tucked up against Joe, face against his neck. Joe had a girlfriend last year and she'd slept on him in the same way. If be was being honest, it made him feel the same. He wasn't sure whether to lay there and let Patrick wake up realizing what he'd done, or move before he awoke. Patrick made the decision for him though, by waking up five minutes later.

“Oh,” Patrick said, shifting away. He had, like, terrible hair right now, sticking up at all angles. “You could've just pushed me away.”

“No, it's okay,” Joe admitted. “I liked it ‘cause you're warm. You know…” Okay, that sounded terrible, but it seemed to work because Patrick laughed and then moved back into the same position. Joe hesitated before he put an arm over Patrick. It was like… it seemed totally romantic.

Patrick was all kinda giggly as they made their way from the suburbs back to the city. Joe was too, only he liked to think he was a little bit cooler than Patrick with it. He mostly just smiled a lot.

“Thank you for taking me to the festival. It was like… I dunno. Now I just wanna play all my favorite jazz records and pretend I got to see them all last night,” Patrick blathered. His knuckles brushed against Joe's as they climbed the stairs to their front door.

Joe was a little confused that night. Patrick had been called in to cover a shift at work so he'd had to leave and then Pete came back, covered in puke, old makeup and bad, bad decisions.

“I guess we're not keeping edge this week,” Joe said, trying to be cool and unconcerned, while still holding Pete up when he fell into him.

“Fucking hate my life,” Pete said. Joe took him to the bathroom, peeling off his clothes and turning on the water. He hadn't been Pete's keeper in a while now, it was usually Patrick's job.

“Life sucks, buddy,” Joe agreed, averting his eyes to Pete's junk. He'd seen far too much of it in the last few years. His hand was bleeding, like he'd punched something hard and unmoving. At least it wasn't a person this time. Joe left Pete to clean up as he put on some coffee. He was glad it was him and not Patrick around. He didn't want Patrick, like, making Pete feel better with his body or anything. Not when Joe got to cuddle him the night before.

“I've been drunk for two days.” Joe jumped at Pete's voice. He was wearing nothing but a towel, but at least he was covered. He took the coffee from Joe and sat at the table.

“Yeah, I hadn't seen you in a while,” Joe said, but they lived their own lives, or Pete did. Having Patrick in the band was cool because it was someone his own age to hang out with. The teasing got shared between them both as well.

“Me and my girl, you know how it goes.” Pete shrugged. “She was cheating. So I punched his car. Got drunk. Same old.”

“Maybe, you know, like... You could just not date for a while. Or find someone different to your usual type.”

“Tried that last year. Didn't work. I'm just… just this _disease_ and I infect everyone.” Joe nodded his head, trying to figure out how Patrick dealt with Pete's self-pity fests “Enough about me. What you been doing?”

“Uh, nothing?” Joe said cautiously. It wasn't often Pete wanted to change the subject when he was in a mood like this. “Patrick was decent when I was sick last month so I took him to this jazz show last night.”

Pete's look changed. “You fucking Patrick?”

_“No.”_ Joe wasn't gonna have whatever he was doing with Patrick be put out like that. “We're just friends.”

Pete just shrugged, sipping his coffee before continuing. “You should go for Patrick. He'll let you inside his body, but he'll never let you inside his head. Believe me.”

“And this conversation is finishing. We're not going there, no way.” Joe crossed his arms, but Pete just laughed like it didn't even matter.

Pete was sleeping off his bender by the time Patrick came back from work. Joe was strumming his guitar, trying to get the chords down for the one song he always fucked up live.

“Something smells gross,” Patrick said, dropping his keys to the table.

“Pete's home.” It was all Joe needed to say for Patrick to understand. He sat beside Joe on the couch, staring at the guitar in his lap.

“Have things changed between us? I mean, it felt so this morning, but then I went to work.” Patrick's face was all red beneath the glasses and the hat. Pete may not have been able to see inside Patrick's head, but his emotions were always so easy to read across his face.

“I'd like it to. I mean, only if you do. We can just forget about it otherwise.”

“I don't wanna forget about it.” Patrick's face creased up. “Maybe we could go on a date or something.”

“Didn't we already do that last night?” Joe asked, sliding his hand down the neck of his guitar before laying it in his lap.

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Patrick plucked his glasses off. “I suppose, I mean. We probably shouldn't leave Pete alone tonight anyway. Maybe. Like. I'm gonna go take a shower, but we could hang out after?”

“Alright.” The whooshy feeling was back when Patrick smiled at him. Joe felt like a washing machine, it was way too weird. He went and laid on his bed as Patrick cleaned up, he wasn't really sure what to do with himself.

He did his weird thing again, where he imagined them all as girls. He started thinking about them somehow in a band; Andy the angry mullet-chick, Pete in cheap leather and Patrick looking like he just finished working at an Oktoberfest bar.

“What you thinking about?” Joe jolted at Patrick's voice, his bedroom door shutting behind him. He made room for Patrick on the bed, smiling when he took up the same position as they morning.

“Oh dude, it is way too embarrassing to say,” Joe admitted, trying to get used to the feeling of Patrick's damp hair beneath his chin.

“Then you _definitely_ have to tell me.” Patrick's hand stroked over Joe's chest. He always felt kinda skinny, but Patrick had slept with Pete so maybe he was into it.

“Don't laugh.” When Joe got neither an agreeable or disagreeable response he continued. “Sometimes when I'm bored or, like, need a good laugh I like to think about the bands as different… entities?”

“Entities? What like aliens?” Patrick asked, but Joe shook his head.

“No. As girls. Like Andy as like an angry Dixie Chick-esque drummer and Pete as Brody Dalle, but way more goth.”

“He'd fucking love that,” Patrick said, and then, of course. “What am I?”

“Uhm.” Joe tried to wonder exactly how offended Patrick would be before he answered. “Mostly like a German milkmaid from, like, the 19th century.”

“Oh.” He wasn't as angry as Joe had envisioned. “That's very specific.”

“I remember studying this painting in high school. I dunno who did it or anything, but I guess it reminded me of something. Maybe you have the same skintone or something. You're kinda rosy.” _Rosy._ Joe sounded like his grandmother using adjectives like that.

“I'm not as sexy or cool as the other two in your dreamworld,” Patrick said. He didn't sound anywhere near as upset as Joe thought.

“Yeah but you live in the Alps with a pet cow. It's way more exotic.”

“That is really weird,” Patrick said. He sat up, using Joe's rib cage for leverage. “Wait. Who are you?”

“Huh?”

“In the girl-world? Andy's an anarchist, Pete's a cyber goth and I'm a milkmaid. What does that make you?” Patrick was staring down at him seriously, as if Joe had ever thought past the rest of them.

He ended up shrugging. “I don't know. Probably the one that used to be ugly so, like, became a comedian to mask it. _Very self-deprecating.”_

Patrick frowned down at him. “But you're not ugly.”

“And you're not a milkmaid.” Joe hadn't exactly meant to call himself ugly, but he was warmed by Patrick's comment anyway. “I think we'd make a badass band as women. Probably work better than we do as dudes.”

“Yeah.” Patrick laughed. “Only if my pet cow joined in though.”

 

It didn't feel like they were a couple. It didn't feel anything like that at all. It just meant that sometimes when they walked back from work together, they held hands. And sometimes Patrick slept all warm and cuddly in Joe's bed.

The weren't boyfriends because they didn't really even do much. If Joe hadn't walked in on Patrick and Pete last year, he may even have guessed Patrick was a virgin. He'd had a girlfriend before the band got together, but he only mentioned it in passing a few times. Joe didn't want to push Patrick into details about his experiences, Pete or otherwise. It could get messy and complicated and he didn't want it to become like that.

“Okay, so I got us booked on tour for this summer. All through the Midwest and then maybe for the rest of the year if we're lucky. We got three months before it starts so stop taking privacy and a warm bed for granted and be thankful to what we have now,” Pete told them the news backstage at a gig. It had been a good show, but all that was forgotten. They'd done mini-tours as a band before they released the album, as opening acts for all of the bands doing Pete a favor, but this was beyond that.

“I guess I'll have to quit my job,” Patrick said to Joe quietly, as Andy joked around with Pete. Joe laughed only because Patrick sounded so disappointed. He landed a comforting hand on his... _friend's_ shoulder and patted soothingly.

“I'm sure if this all goes to shit you'll have a job waiting for you.”

“I'm not disappointed,” Patrick said, “I'm excited, just nervous.”

“We'll be good so long as you're there.” Joe was nervous too, because this was their last chance before their parents made them grow up. He'd rather compliment Patrick than mention that though.

“I don't know.” Patrick went all shy, but it didn't matter. Joe knew it was true. Everyone else in the band knew it too.

So they ended up totally making out that night. Andy and Pete had gone off together, God knows where with the van, leaving them stranded. They weren't far from the apartment, but they'd stopped in at an empty diner to lengthen the night.

“Is this something you really want?” Patrick asked between kisses. They were tucked up in a back booth. If they were getting weird looks from the waitress, Joe didn't care. Patrick's mouth was way more interesting than anything else.

“Yeah. Is it not obvious?” Joe looked at Patrick. He was in a red shirt, dark jeans. Everything made him look hella pale, but Joe didn't care.

“It kinda is, I guess. Just don't wanna ruin it by putting too much--” Joe cut Patrick off with another kiss. Usually he liked hearing him talk, but he just wanted to kiss him to death.

Pete wasn't back at the apartment when they finally got home with bruised lips. Joe didn't really care, it meant he had no qualms about following Patrick into his bedroom. They didn't have sex or even, like, hand jobs. They just kissed. Patrick had a cool knack of tugging on Joe's lip ring when they pulled apart. But mostly they just slept curled up around each other.

“Should we, like, maybe tell Pete about us?” Joe said a week later when they _had_ done hand jobs. Patrick had this surprisingly rad way with words. He'd talk dirty about the things the milkmaid and comedian would do together. It was the kind of thing that if they were to break up, and if Patrick was anything like Pete, well the whole world would know about it and Joe would be humiliated for his weird daydreams. Luckily Patrick was a softie. Joe didn't think he'd ever do that.

Patrick had told his mom about them, and they were around her house afterward. It was awkward for both of them, but Joe got hugged by her a lot, so at least she approved. His mom was on the phone to an aunt ten minutes later. She sounded super happy. It was weird. But at least they were alone in the bedroom now.

“I don't wanna tell Pete,” Patrick said softly. Now that they were dating, Joe figured it gave him the right to clean Patrick's glasses whenever they got too… fingerprinty. It meant he always got to stare right into Patrick blue-eyes and that was kinda rad.

“Why not? Hes our friend.” Okay, so Joe figured this was it, handing back the glasses. This would be the moment where his knowledge regarding his two friends would fall apart and he'd be privy to what happened. It seems like the right time. “I know about you guys.”

“He told you?” Patrick sounded surprised.

“Well _no._ I like accidentally saw you kissing last year.” Patrick stared at Joe and then down at the floral bedspread. “Was that why you quit? It's what I figured.”

“Yeah that's why I quit,” Patrick said softly. “Then I came back.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Joe asked but Patrick only shook his head.

“Not really. I just wanna hang out with you.” He smiled at Joe, and pressed their foreheads together.

Not telling Pete sucked big time. More because Joe felt as if he was creeping around like a cheat rather than anything else. It kinda pissed him off, because, _hello._ Joe wasn't a cheat, he was just kissing. Kissing his boyfriend that he was _allowed_ to do.

 

One week, Pete was AWOL again, away with his girl, so Patrick and Joe had the place to themselves. It was like they were playing house together. They woke up together, they walked home from work together, and then they got to make out together everywhere too.

“I've been thinking.” Patrick was all over Joe, arms around his shoulders, up on his tip toes, hips pressed together. They were literally just inside the front door, but Joe kinda wanted to get naked right then

“What you been thinking about?” Joe had been thinking a lot. About the two of them. How it would work when they finally, did like, The Big Stuff.

“How much I wanna suck your dick now. Want you to stuff it inside my mouth.” _Ooookay_ , for a guy that never cleaned his glasses and tripped over every tenth step he took, Patrick sure knew how to get Joe going.

“You know, I'm _sure_ I've heard that line before.” They both jumped at the voice and turned to see Pete sitting there with a book, watching them from the couch. He looked clean, smelled okay from where they were standing.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick asked, but then frowned. “You don't get to be an asshole.”

“I was only pointing out that I remember you saying the same thing to me.” Pete closed his book. He didn't even seem that upset. Joe didn't really understand what the fuck was going on. Patrick stepped away and slammed the door to his bedroom.

“Like, I _wanted_ to tell you,” Joe started to say. “But he kinda was against it.”

“Yeah. We kinda. Like. We had a complicated relationship for a while; lotta love, even more hate. But I'm happy for your guys. Don't fuck it up like it did.” Pete stood up and clapped Joe on the back, like he was congratulating things.

Joe felt weird all night. Pete left after a while, maybe feeling bad about his comment, Joe didn't really care. He just wandered around, not really sure what to do until he found himself opening Patrick's door.

“You alright?” Joe asked. Patrick was on his bed, arms over his head. His t-shirt was askew, the soft pudge of his stomach on show. He pulled it down, but shifted on his bed so there was room for Joe.

“You know, he showed up for my high school graduation last year. Sat next to my parents and everything. It was… it made me feel kinda, like, I don't know. Sort of cool.” Joe knew at this point he'd get some sort of truth about their relationship. He wasn't sure he wanted it, but he wasn't gonna shut Patrick up about it.

“For all his faults, dude's got rep in the scene.” Joe knew that for himself. If anyone ever found out he was in a band with Pete, they got kind of excited. Of course they weren't _in the band_ with Pete, so they didn't know what it was like.

“We were hooking up. He was my first... Then I walked in on him with a girl. At that point I kinda thought I was the person to, like, change him, but it really hurt finding out I was wrong. I didn't talk to him for like two weeks and then he said he changed so we got back together.” Patrick was staring up at the ceiling, fingers playing with each other over his lap. 

“But, like, he had a girlfriend when I saw you kissing?”

“Oh yeah. When we got back together he said it had to be different, he still needed to put up a front for everyone else. Dunno why I believed him.” Patrick laughed, even though his eyebrows were crossed and he looked embarrassed. “He'd tell me I was amazing and that he loved me, but he never wrote songs about me. Not even shitty ones about wanting to push me under a train. We fucked with the lights off because I could tell. You know. This isn't great. Not what he was used to.”

Joe knew exactly what Patrick meant by that comment and pretty much disagreed. “I like you. I like the way you look. You're rad.”

“That's because you're Joe. Anyway, it was just… it wasn't right. It didn't feel right, but when I told him he just laughed. He said it was because I didn't know anything about it. I was too inexperienced.” Patrick pursed his lips, still not looking at Joe. “At his best he's an amazing friend, there isn't anyone I'd trust more, but when you're seventeen and he's at his worst then...”

“Dude, I don't think I wanna be in a band with him anymore,” Joe said, absolutely sure of it. The only problem was Pete was their ticket out of town. He was the driving force in everything they did.

“No. I think… I think I was an easy target. Maybe I fueled it, I dunno. Either way, I'm okay with him now and all the things he does. I don't want him, I listen to him talk about all his great loves without it hurting now.” Patrick shrugged. Joe didn't think he sounded all that bitter, but he couldn't tell for sure. He hadn't a clue this kind of shit had been going on beneath his own nose.

“You could have told me about you guys though…”

“He wanted it to be a secret more than me.” Patrick laughed, but this time it sounded sadder. “I think he genuinely liked me up here.” Patrick tapped his head. “Doesn't mean he can deal with the rest of it.”

“That dude will fuck everything in sight,” Joe said, trying to be helpful, but unsure looking at Patrick's face. “I just mean that, like, he wouldn't be turned off by you.”

“It felt like it though. It probably was all in my head, but it never felt comfortable with him like it is with you.” Patrick looked away and blushed. “I felt out of place in his bed.”

“That's ‘cause you were.” Joe felt like it was totally his place to cup Patrick's face and kiss him right then. They were basically boyfriends, and he felt the need to, like, assert his feelings for Patrick after hearing all about him and Pete. It kinda did things to a dude.

They stayed in Patrick's room all night. Joe kinda wanted to know about Pete kissing Patrick outside their gig a while back, but he couldn't think of how to stay it and Patrick had pushed Pete away anyway. It wasn't a big deal. Joe was, like, 75% on that.

They kinda, sorta, just ignored Pete for a bit. It was easier than having to deal with any weirdness. Patrick didn't always take to getting teased and Pete generally felt like the world revolved around him anyway.

They went on a lot of dates together. Patrick had a thing for ice cream and could eat so much of it. They'd share a large sundae between them and Joe would watch Patrick talk about Tom Waits until the ice scream turned to a syrupy soup. They'd kiss on the train home and hold hands as they watched movies in Joe's room together. They fell asleep in the same way they did that first time, Patrick piled up like a gentle rock against him.

Joe thought life couldn't get any better. He had, like, a cute boyfriend and their band started to gain a real sort of following. They were hardly ever booed at the hardcore shows and Patrick's voice was getting stronger. Pete would sometimes get a little too close to Patrick onstage, and it made Joe kinda mad, but he didn’t wanna seem like a possessive asshole so he never brought it up to Pete.

“Pete said that sorta stuff sells,” Patrick told him after a gig. They were at his mom's house because it was a Wednesday, but it was late so she was asleep as they laid in Patrick's old bedroom. “He said that girls like it when it looks all romantic. I guess I hear people scream when he comes close so he's probably right.”

“That's weird. I don't get it,” Joe said. Maybe if it was a milkmaid and a comedian, but not the other way around. Not two sweaty dudes that used to sleep together. “Make me kinda jealous. Even if it's fake.”

“I can ask him to stop,” Patrick said, but Joe shrugged. If people really did like it then that would make their chance if getting out of their shitty apartment and somewhere bigger. They might have a chance. And anyway, Patrick never looked at Pete in the ways he looked at Joe. It was all different. “Tom Waits didn't have to fall to such tactics.”

“Maybe not. But we're not Tom Waits,” Joe said. Patrick nodded his head seriously, leaning it against Joe.

 

They were together in Patrick's bedroom in the apartment when he asked the question. They hadn't had sex yet, maybe Joe hadn't wanted to rush it, but there hadn't felt any pressure to do so. Joe hadn't been with a dude before and Patrick's only experience was with Pete. It was just nice being together. Though Joe did want to try it.

“Would you let me fuck you?” He asked, wondering if it came out lame when Patrick blinked up at him quietly. They'd just been listening to music together, not talking about anything in particular. Joe got to choose the music so it was Led Zeppelin because they reminded him of his dad and he was homesick for the first time in forever.

“Is that what you want?” Patrick asked, as if it wasn't implicit. Joe nodded, rubbing at his forehead.

“Well, I mean. Yeah. Unless you don't.” Joe frowned down at Patrick, not sure what else to say. “‘Cause you're really attractive.”

“No I'm not.” Patrick pulled his glasses off, wiping at his own forehead. “Of course I want to have sex with you. I just… you never pushed for it so I wasn't sure.”

“You didn't push for it either,” Joe said, and then laughed. “We do everything wrong.”

“I dunno.” Patrick shrugged. He sat up, so they were almost nose to nose. “I like that we do things different. Kinda wish I could start over. You know. Like we did this, but before I did Pete.”

“Yeah same.” Joe didn't think of Patrick that way at all last year. He was just the dude he met with the voice that may actually take them out of the scene and onto something bigger.

They didn't do it that night, they just sucked each other off instead. Patrick made the best noises and he said it was awesome having Joe's lip ring nudge against the head of his cock. Sometimes Joe would lay there afterward, the taste of Patrick in his mouth, face buried into Patrick's stomach with gentle hands in his hair. The only thing that made it even better was when Patrick wriggled from beneath him and returned the favor.

 

They waited until they knew Pete would be out for the night before they decided to do it. He was at a show across town, would be staying at Chris’ house. They didn't want to be interrupted.

“I have been with girls before,” Joe said, because to be honest, playing guitar in a band with Pete Wentz did _kinda_ help him out of the awkward virgin phase.

“It's not the same though. Believe me.” Patrick had R&B playing on his stereo, which was corny as fuck, but probably better suited than the Queen mood Joe had been in. “Like. I dunno. It's intense. More maybe--” Patrick had his eyes squeezed in thought, like it was a hard thing to describe.

“But you like it?” Joe asked. He had his hands on Patrick's thighs, squeezing over the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Yeah, I like it.” Patrick bit his lip and then laughed. “There's some stuff I wanna tell you after we do it because I want you to know, but not yet.”

It was Joe's turn to laugh, though it was awkward. “Dude, let's just. _Okay_. Get me through this and then we'll talk.” They didn’t have condoms, or at least, there wasn’t any in Patrick's bedroom so they figured they’d go without them. He had lube, which was half-empty, and he gave it to Joe with pink cheeks like he was embarrassed.

Kissing Patrick was the best, especially because Patrick’s mom bought him expensive pillows when he moved out, so he had the comfiest bed and pressing him down into the soft give felt romantic. It was dumb, but Joe liked the bright shade of Patrick's hair in the dim light of his lamp. It turned it more golden than blonde, made him look kind of angelic.

“You are so nervous.” Patrick was laughing as they laid down together. His fingers were running gently up and down Joe's arm, stopping when he moved higher over his tattoo. It made Joe shiver, so he slapped Patrick's hand away and kissed him again.

“I just don’t want it to be bad for you,” Joe said. He kissed Patrick softly. Everything about him was soft even if he denied it. Joe always felt bony and tall around him, but Patrick never complained. “I don’t…I’m not Pete.”

“I don’t want Pete.” Patrick's eyes were fixed sharp and firm, enough so that Joe decided there was nothing soft about that glance. “I want you to fuck me. I want it so bad.”

It did sound a little like a line from porno, but it was Patrick saying it, so it was hot. Joe kissed Patrick again, but this time he grappled for his own belt, tugging it from the loops of his jeans. Patrick was such an awkward little guy, didn't fit in his skin or anyone's view of him either, but Joe was borderline turned on by how comfortable Patrick seemed around him. Maybe they were both that way.

“Sometimes I think about this. Like, when it's dead at the store and I haven't got anything to do.” Patrick pulled at his own pants, popping the button and pulling them down. “I think about going on a break in the storeroom.”

“You have a storeroom?” The whole fusty place was like a storage closet, but who was Joe to judge? He worked in a pizza place.

“Yeah. I think about you in there. Kissing me against the wall, maybe even like pushing me up. 'Cause you're tall and everything.” Patrick kicked his pants off and then kinda opened his legs for Joe. There always felt like the perfect amount of space between his legs for Joe, like they fit just perfect. Plus it was _warm._ Patrick's thighs were always so hot.

So Joe felt kinda like he was a badass when it came to making out. He would press his hips down into Patrick, sliding a hand to his stomach _and_ kiss him. Joe may not have fucked a dude before, but he knew how to make Patrick moan with a tongue in his mouth.

Patrick's hands slid to Joe's back, pushing up his shirt. His hands were hot, pressing down Joe's spine. It made him shiver, made him lose balance and fall on top of Patrick, who just laughed wet and hot in Joe's ear. He moved his hands up and down Patrick’s body. Mostly his thighs because they were thick in ways dude thighs weren’t supposed to be. He was all kinda pink too, pink and white. Joe wasn’t complaining, it was amazing. Patrick laughed under every touch, his own hands drawing up and down Joe's arms.

“We’re gonna be good at this,” Patrick sighed, laughing some more when Joe’s hands slid to his stomach. “I can already tell.”

They kissed for what seemed like forever. It helped calm Joe down a little bit. Sometimes he thought about Pete's comment about never getting inside Patrick's head, but that was wrong. Joe couldn't always read Patrick, but right now, spread out together on his bed, he understood him just fine.

Eventually they were both naked. Joe wasn’t sure if it was wrong to just stare, but he couldn’t help it. Patrick wasn’t...he just _wasn’t_. Joe wasn’t sure what it was that was different, just there was something strange about him. Patrick just held him close as they made out, hands running up and down Joe's body, tugging at the metal through his lip and moaning whenever Joe's hip rocked down against his cock.

Grabbing the lube kinda broke the intensity a little bit, and Joe took his time with it. He imagined Patrick using it alone, smearing it over his fingers and then pressing them inside. He bet that was, like, super hot. He kinda wanted to watch it.

“You do it,” Joe said, plucking up the courage to ask. “I wanna watch you.”

“Really?” Patrick scrunched his nose up, but then nodded, grabbing the bottle back and pouring some out. He wriggled on the bed, until the pillows were plump beneath his ass and he was sitting back.

Joe watched Patrick open his legs, heels of his feet pushing into his soft bedding, leaning up on his elbows. Patrick was teasing himself, maybe even more than Joe, as he ran a hand down his body. His cock was half hard, stiffening as he stroked it. As he did so, his hips lifted off the bed, his asshole flashing.

Slowly his fingers walked down past his dick, glistening to the second knuckle. He stared at Joe as he circled his digits, his cock held in his other hand. As he concentrated on teasing the two of them, he stopped sucking his stomach in and it stuck out, a little round. Joe was, like, super turned on. He couldn’t face it, but shutting his eyes would be way too embarrassing.

“Can't believe I'm watching you fuck yourself,” Joe said, as Patrick's fingers pushed inside. He liked watching them disappear into his body, catching sight of the way Patrick started to clench tighter at his cock.

“Me either,” Patrick muttered, but he started to move his fingers. He moved them in a circular direction, his wrist clicking with the motion. His feet slipped on the bed so he replanted them, soles down His fingers slipped out with the movement, but he shoved them back in. “Oh fuck, that’s good.”

Joe was jacking himself slowly, watching Patrick get a little more daring. He’d slip one finger out and trace around his ass before they slid in again. Sometimes he’d pull down a little, looking right at Joe, who was looking right at where Patrick was pink and stretched.

“Can I help?” Joe asked, but Patrick shook his head, rocking his balls in the palm of his hand, before sliding it over his cock again. He was fully hard, rocking down onto his hand. “Is this what you thought about doing in your storeroom?”

“Shut up.” Patrick laughed, fingers sliding out of his body and hand falling away from his cock. Joe’s heart was beating, dick tight in his hand. This felt way more intense than when he’d been with a girl for the first time. It was way different.

Joe took back the bottle and slicked himself up, not too much because he didn't want to blow his load, but his head was still wrapped up in thoughts of Patrick naked on the bed, fucking himself on his fingers.

Joe held himself proud in his hand, even if he felt all bony and scrawny as he stared at Patrick’s body on the bed. He didn’t seem to mind though, when Joe fell on top of him. Patrick’s body bracketed him in his arms and legs as the room fell to silence for a few long seconds.

Joe tried to work things out for himself, the best way to hold himself up. They measured up pretty okay, despite the inches of height between them. He had to hold back coming after the first touch of the head of his cock against Patrick’s quivering asshole. He pressed and pushed, waiting for the give of Patrick’s body. He shivered and moaned at the sight of Patrick finally relaxing, his dick sliding inside. Once the head was in, the rest was just an easy slide.

He was basically on top of Patrick, just laying there trying not to do anything that would blow his load. Patrick was tight, tighter than the girls he'd be with. Joe thought it would the same, but it didn’t. The lube made it slicker, but he wasn’t _wet_. The tightness was unreal and he felt like he could feel every breath Patrick took.

Patrick finally relaxed a little more. It wasn’t like Joe couldn't move, but they were so coiled up for the first few minutes that it was only fair to give them both a chance to go with it, rather than come way too pathetically and early.

Joe pulled out a little, and then pushed in again. It was hot and Patrick groaned deep in his chest. Joe could feel it around his dick, it made his head go fuzzy. He rocked his hips and fell forward. Totally lame, but like, Patrick only laughed a little bit. It felt tighter when he did.

“Wait, let me rejig.” Joe pulled out, choking a little bit. It was way intense.

_“Rejig?”_ Patrick laughed. When Joe looked at him he was all pink and sweaty. It was, like, totally love. Joe knew it. He changed their positions a little bit, so that Patrick was flat on his back and Joe was kneeling.

“We can totally do this,” Joe said, smiling when Patrick bit his lip. He grabbed Patrick’s legs and kinda, shoved himself between them. Patrick didn't complain, even if he wasn't as flexible as Joe was trying to make him. Eventually Joe pushed back inside, Patrick's ass in his lap, his shoulders pressed into the bed.

It was almost better like this. Joe had more control, he could make it deeper and they weren’t slipping and sliding. Patrick basically just had to lay there and get fucked, but it was making his eyes roll back, his teeth clamped over his bottom lip. His stomach kinda juggled with Joe's thrusts, but he was too into getting fucked to notice and Joe, well, he was into it anyway.

Patrick came first. He had a hand balled over his dick, the head red and leaking as Joe found a good angle. He could hear the slap of the skin together, the bed squeaking and Patrick’s gasps and moans mixing up with his own.

Joe wasn’t sure if he should, like, pull out or not. He’d only ever used condoms with girls in the past, so it wasn't as much of an issue. Patrick was, like, super dirty though. He’d probably want to have Joe come inside. He just came eventually, Patrick's knees pressing into his ribs. As he pulled out it was wetter, he looked down to see trails of his slick come trickle out of Patrick’s ass. It was messy and hot.

Joe was complete gone afterward as he lay flat on his back. He felt spacey and giggly, but too exhausted to do anything about it. Patrick just laid against him, stroking his chest like the girls always do on movies. None of his girlfriends did it, but he liked it. Made him feel all like… like Brad Pitt only like punk rock. More like Henry Rollins.

“Are you okay?” Joe asked, because Patrick had gone all quiet on him, even if the touching was awesome.

“Yeah, that was amazing. You were amazing. You were good. I had fun.”

“Sure, I'll take your word for it.” Joe laughed. He rubbed Patrick's shoulder, just with his thumb. It felt like the official start of their relationship. It felt more real.

“There was something I wanted to tell you,” Patrick said later. He’d pulled some clothes on, or at least was wearing boxers and Joe's shirt, sitting on top of him with bad behead and hands on his stomach.

“Oh yeah,” Joe said. He raised his hands to Patrick's hips, wishing he was asleep because he could do with some. Could do with crashing out of the world for a few days with Patrick. “The thing you didn't want to tell me before we had sex.”

“It's about Pete.” Of course it was. Joe groaned, but then tried to smile pleasantly because he was the nice one. Patrick leaned down and kissed at Joe's mouth and then his nose, then his cheeks, before sitting up. It felt like a softening tactic.“I don't want you to be mad.”

“Okay.” Joe wondered if this would be the moment when Patrick would tell him about Pete still trying to kiss him earlier this year. Maybe Joe would tell him that he knew and it made him jealous at the time and then they’d start making out again.

“You know how he gets sometimes, when he says things that, like, sound a bit suicidal.” Patrick was looking up the ceiling instead of down at Joe. Pete had talked about it a little; he went off his meds and then went back on them. It wasn't great, but he hadn't caused serious concern in a while. “Sometimes he'd say stuff about it. After we got back together.”

“Pete wouldn't ever blame you for the shit in his own head, Patrick,” Joe said. Pete was usually pretty good at taking way too much of the blame for his actions.

“No, I know that. When we did get back together sometimes between school, the band and work, I got kinda tired and I wasn’t very attentive. I don’t think I'm very attentive anyway.” Patrick laughed it off, though he got a deep crease between his eyebrows that Joe wanted to rub away. “It’s just, like, sometimes we’d have sex when I didn’t really want to because I didn’t want him to go to a bad place. So I just kinda laid there unresponsive while he did me.”

“I mean, like, I don’t think you not wanting sex with him would make him hurt himself, Patrick,” Joe laughed, but Patrick's creased forehead didn’t smooth. Instead it got deeper.

“I dunno.” Patrick shrugged. “It sounds dumb out loud, but in the moment it felt better to be distant and easy rather than close myself off to him and tell him how I felt. That’s why I was glad when he got bored of me the second time because I didn’t have to deal with it. You know, being seventeen, and all. It was way too much for me.”

“When you tell me shit like that it kinda makes me hate Pete a little,” Joe confessed. He didn’t feel a burning hatred for anyone, really, but he’d probably attempt to break Pete’s nose right now, if the mood permitted it.

“No, don’t say that.” Patrick rubbed at Joe’s bare chest; kinda weird, but soothing. “His downfall is his inability to fight off loneliness. Trying to fight it off with me just backfired on us both and I was way too young for him. He wasn’t really, like, there for me either, I guess. You make a much better boyfriend and I’m happy with you. Plus, you nearly always let me choose what we listen to, and you hate 85% of my taste.”

“Like this shit right now.” It sounded like knockoff Usher coming through the speakers, which could very well be Usher. It all sounded the same to Joe.

“You can be disappointed in him, but not mad. On my orders,” Patrick said, falling back down onto Joe. He tucked his face into Joe's neck, soft lips resting against his skin. Joe was still naked, even if Patrick was half dressed, but he felt so sweaty and kinda rundown. He just had sex with Patrick for the first time, but Pete had still ended up the final topic of conversation.

 

Joe decided to not let it bother him. What happened between Patrick and Pete was fucked up, but maybe it was different. Maybe it wasn’t a total wreckage of a relationship, Joe didn’t know any of it. At least, he only knew Patrick's side. What he knew was enough to just be glad that he somehow ended up with their weird little singer instead. It also helped that Patrick was sucking his dick at every opportunity.

Like, in an alleyway near the van after a show. Joe got a fair amount of girls when he toured with Arma, but none of them were ever up for this. Patrick even removed his hat, and was staring up at Joe as he bobbed his head, tongue flat and hand fisted around the base, holding him still and steady. He actually moaned like he couldn’t get enough and he never sound embarrassed by it. Joe was way too cool to be that way. Joe was way more delicate with it, but like, he was also way more wary of his gag reflex than Patrick. Patrick went to town with cock-sucking and Joe did not complain one bit.

“If you ever wanted, to like, you know... Come on my face, you could,” Patrick said, once he’d swallowed and stood up. He brushed his knees off and then combed his hair out of his face, before circling his arms around Joe and leaning in for a kiss.

“But not out here, right?” Joe said, pulling Patrick in for another kiss. Patrick's chin was all damp with spit, but he didn’t care. He just pulled Patrick in closer, searching out his cozy warmth.

Patrick laughed into Joe's chest. “Not here, but maybe at home. So I could clean up after.”

“I dunno, dude. I like coming in your mouth. It’s hot when it spills down your chin. So I like it like that more.”

“That’s good. Just thought I'd ask.” Patrick pulled away, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand before smiling. “We should probably go find the others. Help pack up.”

Patrick busied himself around Andy after, begging him to come to the record store and check out something at the weekend. Andy was pretty cool and would probably earn a decent amount of rep for Patrick's little record store. Joe could do with some of those cool vibes at the pizzeria, it was mostly stale cheese and disappointment.

“I saw you two earlier.” Joe jumped at the sound of Pete’s voice as he loaded the van up. “He’s still sucking your dick then.”

“Not at this moment, no,” Joe said. “He’s sucking up to Andy about something.”

“He’s good at it.” oh God, Pete was in one of _those_ moods. Joe didn't want to be the one handling him like this. Couldn't, like, a grown up come and fix him instead.

“Don’t you have a new girlfriend to obsess over? Leave us alone, dude. You guys are finished.”

“Sure we are. He doesn’t want me like that at all.”

Joe's eyes suddenly narrowed. “Are you...like...disappointed? You cheated all the time.”

“It’s kinda hard to cheat on the one that's kept hidden; the one that knows about everyone else,” Pete said and the worst thing is he sounded genuine. Like, he was actually upset about it. “But that mouth! _Dude._ It sucked giving that up. Better than wet pussy, right?”

Joe's eyes closed, trying to wish himself out of the conversation. “Can you, like, self-destruct elsewhere? Not really feeling you tonight.”

“Nah, I’m just teasing. He’s a good kid and I hurt him, but he let it happen, you know? I’m not the only one to blame.”

“He feels the same,” Joe said, knowing it was true. Patrick wouldn’t deny it even if Joe thought it was all bullshit. “Dude, we can be friends, but I can’t talk about him with you. I know too much without wanting to.” Maybe Joe should bring up the whole kissing against the van thing he saw to Pete instead, but who knew what kind of response he’d get to that. Probably something hideous and band destroying. Joe would rather not know.

Joe bugged Patrick to go out with him that night. He didn't want to be at the apartment with Pete in the mood he was. Patrick was complaining because he had a new record he'd picked up at the store that he'd wanted to listen to.

“But I swear I just knew it would be the best thing to listen to after a show,” Patrick was saying, rushing to keep up with Joe's strides. He didn't know where they were going, just somewhere away from Pete and all the messiness he was caught up in.

“Patrick, listen to it after the next gig, it can wait. Just come with me.” Joe reached out and grabbed Patrick's wrist, so they were more in sync. “I just want you and the city.”

“Those sound like song lyrics,” Patrick laughed, resting his head briefly on Joe's shoulder. “If I was allowed to write lyrics I'd write those.”

“You're not a bad songwriter, but Pete worked out better, right?” Pete's lyrics could be pretty cutting, but Joe had sided with him during that argument. If Patrick had put the effort into lyrics like he did music, he'd be a little rock-god genius, but he didn't so they took it away from him.

“Music beats lyrics in every world. Sometimes lyrics make a song worse, you know? I know you all think I'm weird like that, but there are people out there that think like me.”

“I'm sure there are. Not in our scene though,” Joe said, but he liked that about Patrick, however dreamy and dumb it made him sound.

“I feel like such a fake,” Patrick started to say, his voice changing as they walked further away from the club. “Being in the hardcore scene. Everyone knows I don't belong up there. It's so fucking obvious, but I love it. It's fucking weird, man. Hating the scene, loving the band.”

“You still like Saves the Day, right? That's like our record.”

Patrick laughed, dropping his head to Joe's shoulder again. “Dude, _Through being Cool_ like transcends pop punk. They don't count. Or Green Day for _Dookie._ ”

“But other than that?” Joe was weirded out however often they spoke about it. Metal was his main passion, but, like,they _were_ pop-punk. Patrick wrote the music, but hated the genre. He was so fucking weird.

“I dunno. Guess I just have a thing for punk rock dudes with bad tattoos and piercings that drag me into bands with them,” Patrick said, looking like a huge dork in his too-large jacket with the sleeves rolled up.

“You're talking about me, right?” Joe said and maybe he said it wrong because Patrick's face scrunched up again and his lips twisted. “That was a joke.”

“I hope so,” Patrick responded. He tightened his hand on Joe's arm, but didn't press on. “Where are we going again?”

“Nowhere.” They could catch the El a few blocks away, travel out of their district for a few hours, fight sleep together somewhere new in the city.

They tried to get into a bar together, but Patrick never had his fake I.D with him so they had no chance of passing even with Joe's. So they ended up where they usually did when they couldn't think of anywhere; sharing a shake in an open all hours diner.

“Sometimes I miss last year a little bit,” Patrick said softly. He'd pulled his glasses off and unbuttoned his jacket. He'd chewed his straw which was gross, but Joe let him share anyway.

“What part do you miss?” Joe asked. Tonight was a night for insecurities. He didn't get them much, but between some of Patrick's vague comments and DoucheLord Wentz earlier, he was feeling it.

“I miss, like, doing my math homework backstage of a gig because I left it to the last minute. I miss your mom making us hang out in the kitchen so she could make sure we weren't sneaking out on a school night. Now I just feel stuck in limbo, shitty paying job that I love, in a band that I love but that also pays shitty. Living with my boyfriend, which is great, but my ex which is not so good. Just feel little, but grown. I miss my mom, too. Sometimes so much, even if it's her just nagging me to wake up.”

“I kinda get that a little.” Maybe just someone to tell him what to do, maybe to ban him from getting bad tattoos and lip rings and stay away from little dudes with weird heads. “Though I can't wait to go on tour this summer.”

“I know. Like a real tour. Pete said we might even get a few slots a Warped. Can you fucking imagine?”

“We might get out of our dumb apartment and somewhere else?” It felt like they'd been there forever, but it was only around five months or so. “That's, like, _scary.”_

“I just wanna do some more writing. I'm bored of the songs already,” Patrick said, pulling his straw from the glass and sucking on the end. “God knows what shit Pete's gonna give me to work with.”

“I mean, at least he always gives himself plenty of drama to work with?” Joe said, watching Patrick laugh. It was cruel, but true. Pete had always been a damn mess.

“Right. I'm so glad I'm out of that now. Now I can critique and edit without any emotion.” Patrick dipped his straw back into the shake. “I'm so done with any bullshit he tries to throw my way. I got you and I got my records, anything else is just inconsequential bullshit.”

“I hope so,” Joe said, leaning down to mouth at his own straw before Patrick drank all of the shake. He felt uneasy all night, but he tried to hide it from Patrick.

 

Things felt a little easier for a while. Pete was back to keeping edge, and keeping happy with his new girlfriend. She drank all their root beer and used up their limited supply of hot water, but she was legal and she kept him as happy as anyone could. Joe was glad for selfish reasons. If Pete was happy, then he didn't need Patrick consoling him.

“Life can’t get much better right now,” Joe said, smelling like stale tomato sauce as he walked back to the apartment with Patrick. Patrick was off in his own head, probably thinking about some boring-ass jazz intro, but he hummed in agreement all the same. “You looking forward to the show later?”

“Kinda nervous,” Patrick said, snapping out of his head. Joe watched his eyes blink lazily from behind his glasses as he looked up at him. “But I always am.”

“I feel like the boos are at a good twenty-five percent less than before,” Joe said, which was true. They even had, like, legit fans that would sing the words back. It was pretty insane, but hopeful. “Plus, I like how you get afterward. All, like, handsy.”

“I don’t…” Patrick looked away, but it was written all over his pink face. “The show makes me all buzzy.”

Okay, so it was a good show that night. They were still only the support, but kids had turned up to see them, and there was a feeling in the room as if they were better than the main act. Joe had heard Pete insisting to Patrick they were the best, but Patrick had shushed him saying it was bad luck. Joe was siding with Pete on this one, though.

Patrick’s voice was on it and sometimes he’d look over at Joe with, like, total sex in the eye. He looked like he did when he was getting fucked; red, sweaty, his lips swollen as they crashed against the mic stand. Pete would ruin the moment, generally, by grinding up against Patrick, and the crowd would scream. It didn’t ruin Joe's night though; he was in too much of a good mood.

They were so _not_ the kinda boys to make out in a restroom cubicle, but they did it anyway. At least until Joe was too creeped out about where they were to take it any further. He loved having his hands up the back of Patrick's sweat-damp shirt, shoulders aching from curving down the way he was. But, like, _germs._

“Isn’t this, like, a moment?” Patrick said, which made zero sense. “People have these moments in movies and they don’t stop for germs.”

“We’re not in the movies,” Joe said. “We could drive off in the van and have sex?”

“What about Pete and Andy?” Patrick asked, but whatever. It was, like, totally their turn to desert the two assholes of the band. He held his hand out for Patrick, who took it. The other two were still backstage; the main band still burning out eardrums. Patrick grabbed the keys from the table they’d been thrown on and they made their exit.

Joe drove them away with Patrick still dithering with his door open. They talked shit together about the show. Patrick felt it too, how the crowd were there for them and not anyone else. They’d never really felt like the main draw before, not even with Pete in the band, but things had started to change.

“Thank you for letting me join your band. I don’t think I can fucking say it enough,” Patrick said, when they pulled up. They hadn’t gone too far away, just pulled up on an empty residential road. Their van was unremarkable if they turned the lights off, which they did, and crawled into the back.

It was a bit of a squeeze, Joe had to hover over Patrick, pressed between amps and bags of crap. It was worth it though, because Patrick was always so malleable and he was desperate. Joe really wanted to fuck Patrick that night. Partly because he wanted back whatever Pete's onstage presence had smeared over Patrick. They couldn't though, because there wasn't any lube and while they, like, never used condoms, there wasn't really anything to clean up with either.

So they were boring, but it didn't matter because Patrick was soft, his arms were over Joe's shoulders and his mouth fell open so easy. Joe went kinda mad with the kissing. He just felt like he needed to do it or he'd die and Patrick was a willing, if wiggly subject. Joe backed up awkwardly, to push up Patrick's shirt and kiss at his stomach, his hip bones, teeth nipping and grazing at the soft swell of his skin. If there was any light in the van, Joe would be able to see Patrick all red. He wanted to leave his own marks over Patrick in the ways that Pete had, but didn’t know how.

It was weird stopping while they were both hard, but Joe had read about, like, orgasm denial and it being a _thing_. Plus it helped clear the weird possessive thoughts shooting through his mind.  He rested his head on Patrick's chest for a while, thinking about orgasms and denial and nothing else. 

“Do you think this will still be a thing in six months?” Patrick asked. It sounded weird, too much vibration with his ear to Patrick's chest. He lifted up instead, so that he was hovering.

“What, like the band or us?” He asked. He couldn’t tell from Patrick's expression.

“Us.” Patrick chewed his lip, hand against Joe's cheek, stroking gently.

“I hope so. I don't think I'd wanna be in the band without you. Being with you like this.” Sometimes there were moments where Joe knew it would just be easier to forget all about being with Patrick, that he half wishes they’d never started their relationship . Then Patrick would look at him and Joe would get all gooey inside and he'd be glad they did it.

“I survived Pete last year,” Patrick hesitated and didn't mention that he'd quit for two weeks. “But, like, that's just the last thing I want too, in case it sounded like it wasn't. I guess Pete was like a heart thing, but being with you is a head _and_ heart thing. I dunno. Does that make sense?”

“I get it.  You're good.” Joe leaned up and kissed Patrick's soft mouth, tapping his nose gently. “We're good.”

They got back to the venue without anyone even really realizing they'd left. Joe was still itching for some kind of friction against Patrick, but they went their separate ways for a while. Patrick was getting caught up in an argument with Pete with some dudes that were double their size and Joe found some old friends to hang out with instead.

The night ended without much drama; Pete stopped his pissy fighting with the guys and Patrick wandered off to be near Joe again. Pete's mood was low, but he just went to his bedroom and turned on Metallica. Patrick pulled Joe into his bedroom and it suddenly felt right. Joe's hands slid to his waist, pressing Patrick into his closed door. Patrick's mouth opened, his hands already tugging at Joe's belt, sliding it open.

Joe could feel his blood pumping in his ears, felt like he was inhaling Patrick's breathes as he pushed out his own. His hands were caught in the fabric of Patrick's shirt, stretching it out as he felt fingers dragging his zipper down, pushing pants and boxers down roughly.

“This has been building forever,” Patrick said, moaning when Joe started to kiss at his neck. Patrick's head fell to the door, until Joe moved his hand behind it, tightening in his blond hair. “This is new.”

“What do you mean?” Joe pulled away briefly, trying to control his breathing, and the hand in his hair.

“I dunno.” Patrick licked his swollen lips, hands still on Joe's crotch. “Just you. Being all heavy handed.”

“Sorry?” Joe moved his hand away from Patrick's head, still breathing hard, but Patrick laughed, hands cupping Joe's face and pulling him in for a sharp kiss.

“Asshole, I don't mean it badly. I like it.” Patrick smiled at him, his teeth glinting in the dark light. “You don’t always give me everything but you are now.”

“I give you everything you fucking want,” Joe said. Maybe he was too easy going for his own good, letting Patrick sway him into doing things, but he didn't want it like that tonight. Joe could change it. He pushed Patrick onto the bed, but Patrick pushed him away, fighting him off, laughing his head off  as they got naked. Joe kissed him, and Patrick bit down onto his lip, hands snaking over his cock.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Joe said. He wasn’t mad, but it didn’t feel like them. It didn’t feel like the way they usually did stuff.

“Nothing wrong with me,” Patrick grinned up at him, then looked down at Joe's dick. “You wanna fuck me? Isn't that what you’ve wanted all night. But you’re too good to do it in the back of the van.”

“Good god, Patrick. You’re a fucking weirdo,” Joe laughed, but he could play Patrick like this. He seemed to want some fight and aggression. Joe wouldn’t hurt him, but awkwardly rough was better than nothing.

He ended up fucking Patrick on his hands and knees, laughing every time Patrick said something sharp and stupid. They were full of too much adrenaline and energy and nothing made much sense, but it was hot. Patrick shut up in the end, shoving his face into the pillows and moaning. Joe felt like a fucking champ, hands on Patrick’s hips, going for it like they do in porn. Patrick was just laughing, mumbling something into the sheets. If they’d been mad at each other at some point, they weren’t anymore.

“That was so fucking weird,” Patrick said when they’d come. He rolled onto his back, wriggling like he was a little uncomfortable. Joe fell next to him, feeling all light and giggly.

“Like, weird fucking make up sex, but I didn’t know we were fighting.” Joe looked at Patrick. The light was bad in the room, but he could just about make out the fresh pink glow of Patrick’s face. “Do you want me to be all, like, aggressive. Is that what you were asking?”

“Nah.” Patrick shook his head. “I don’t need it like that, I just got caught up, like...it was different to how we normally are so it was exciting. You get it, right?”

“Yeah. It’s probably, like, something to do with orgasm denial.” Joe said it seriously, thinking it _might_ be true. They denied their orgasms, like twice, and then got all angsty. “‘Cause that’s what we did.”

“I guess...I dunno.” Patrick rolled closer to Joe, still laughing at the thought. Joe laid beside him but he wasn’t close to sleep. He tried staring at Patrick for a while, who was out for the count, the sheets tangled in his clenched hands. It was sweet, but not enough to send him off.

Joe sat up and immediately frowned. He was adamant that they’d closed the door, that he’d had Patrick pressed up against it, but it was open now. Just a crack, just enough for someone to peek through. _Oh God_ , he thought. _How fucking gross._ He left Patrick's’ bedroom not long later, wanting to be on his own. He still didn’t sleep, knew that there was something to worry about, that Pete was apparently way more of a perv than Joe realized. He was starting to feel like nothing he ever did with Patrick could truly be their own, that Pete would always be involved.

The next morning Patrick was up early, but frowning at Joe. He was all soft; soft hair and soft eyes not hidden behind his glasses. Joe felt bad because he looked confused, but he was wearing Peter’s shirt and that was, like, super uncool. Joe had been up most of the night thinking bad thoughts. That shirt wasn’t helping at all.

“That’s Pete's shirt,” Joe said. He knew it was, because Patrick hated Marilyn Manson and it looked way too goth for him anyway. “Why are you wearing it?”

“Oh, I dunno. I was the last one to do the laundry, I didn't realize I hadn’t sorted properly,” Patrick shrugged down at his shirt.  It sounded like him, right down to the core. He stepped closer to Joe, pretty smile on his closed lips.“You know.  I missed you this morning, missed waking  up with you after last night. We did it so dirty last night.”

“When we finished the door was open. Pete must have been watching.” Joe wished he could indulge Patrick in the sweet smile he'd received, but he'd barely slept thinking about it. Being watched by anyone as he had set was weird to him, but by Pete? No way, completely off the grid of Joe's comfort zone.

Patrick pulled a face, quick to shake his head. “Why would he do that?”

“I dunno. Maybe he still wants you.”

“He didn’t want me when he had me. There’s nothing to worry about there.” Patrick was laughing uneasy, but Joe could tell he was freaked by the thought. “He’s our friend he wouldn’t do that. Right?”

Joe suddenly felt like he shouldn't have said anything at all. Patrick’s whole face was nervous as Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “I dunno, Patrick. I'm probably wrong and we left it open, but I just think we should kinda be careful. Don't say anything to him about it, we don’t need, like, drama.”

“Well if I find out it’s true I'll fucking kill him. I swear I will ,” Patrick said. Despite appearances, Pete had been in some serious fights and had been arrested probably more times than Patrick was aware of, he couldn't take him even at his brattiest. “Why would he wanna watch us have sex. That's gross.”

”Why is it gross?” Joe asked, but Patrick just stared at him like he was dumb. “Neither of us, are like, the ugliest guys on the planet.” To be fair, neither of them were God's gift, either, but Joe’s self esteem wasn’t that bad. Pete was easy too, always had been.

“I don’t ever wanna watch him have sex with anyone else. It’s just gross, you know it is.”

“You only don’t wanna watch him have sex because you already caught him with people in the past.” Okay, that was like a major misstep in Joe's vocabulary because he saw how hurt Patrick was by it. “Sorry. That was shitty.”

“I think I'm gonna go to my dad's today,” Patrick said, instead of accepting Joe's apology. He sidestepped Joe and his outstretched hands, to shove his feet into his Van's and leave the apartment.

Because there was no one else around and Joe was in a bad mood, he cleaned the apartment instead. He washed the dishes and skimmed the carpet with their shitty vacuum. He wasn't sure it did much, but it helped him having an ordered apartment.

Two hours later Pete came home. In an ideal world Joe would ask him outright why he was such a goddamn creep watching them together, but as it was, he just nodded his head and kept it hidden. He'd already upset Patrick, he didn't want to offend anyone else.

“Where's Patrick?” Pete asked, dropping his keys to the kitchen table. He shoved a roll of bills into the mutual tour collection caddy. God knows what he'd done to earn the money, but Joe didn't care.

“He went to his dad's for the day,” Joe said, tugging at the metal through his lip.

“Man, I met his dad last year. He did _not_ like me.” Pete laughed, scratching the sides of his head. “Didn't talk to me through Patrick's graduation either.”

Joe frowned immediately, remembering Patrick telling him about it. “Why did you go?”

“Huh?” Pete played dumb because he was good at it. He fiddled with the studs of his belt, rather than look Joe in the eye.

“To his graduation? Why did you go?”

“Because I was fucking him at the time?” Pete said flatly. He looked up from his belt and stared right into Joe's eyes. He looked like he was waiting for Joe to snap back at him, but when he didn't he just shrugged , and continued. “I'd also nearly rail-roaded his schooling enough that his mom was real pissed. Figured I should make an attempt, plus I liked the way he looked at me back then.”

Joe wasn’t convinced. “Maybe that's why his dad hated you then. Because you interrupted his plans.”

“Perhaps.” Pete shrugged, taking a seat on the couch, patting it until Joe joined him. “I think Patrick told his dad we were together. His parents are pretty liberal, they don't care that he likes dudes, but dads never like me it's just a fact. His wasn't any different.”

“You're not exactly the best guy to date,” Joe pointed out. Pete just laughed like it was funny.

“I don't hide that though. It's known by everyone.” Pete rubbed at his forehead, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “If we don't make it past the tour I think I'll die in this city.”

“It'll happen. I can feel the buzz at every show,” Joe said, but Pete was checking out of the conversation. He wasn’t happy about it, or the fact that he hadn’t been able to find a way to ask about his fucked up voyeurism the night before, but Joe didn’t fucking know what else to do anymore.

Patrick was back later that afternoon, when Pete was out with friends and Joe was lying in his bed, vaguely hating his life. Patrick, though, seemed over the fight that morning. He opened Joe's door and fell on the bed beside him, laying his hand on Joe's chest.

“When I was with Pete I told my dad, but he wasn't happy. He said any dude but band dudes. When we broke up he said 100% he'd support my decision to pursue music but only if i kept out of trouble,” Patrick said. Joe's parents were being cautious about the whole relationship with Patrick, acting like it was a phase. He'd never actively sought out anything romantic with guys before, but he couldn't imagine them reacting like Patrick’s.

“I guess you couldn't keep your word.” Joe was looking up at the ceiling and not at Patrick. Man, he wished it was back, like, a month. Back when they were having fun together and there wasn't anything weird hanging over them.

 

They played gigs hard and fast over the next few weeks. The crowds were getting bigger and the tour was seeming like a real chance to get out there. They had a few after-show parties back at the apartment. They were super lame by house party standards because that was no booze, but they all had fun.

Joe could hear people laughing, probably at him, but like, he didn't care. He was back on good terms with Patrick, their fight forgotten about after a few make out sessions and serious discussions over milkmaids.

“We are good people,” Joe was saying, and then laughed because Patrick did too and his hands were on Joe's shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss. They never said I love you or anything, because that would be super lame and corny in Joe's eyes, but he could see it all over Patrick’s face. He was always so obvious about everything and it made Joe's breath catch at least three times a day.

“We are good people that don't give a fuck about who watches,” Patrick was smiling even as their lips bumped. Someone made another joke, probably 100% about the two of them making out in the corner. But Joe, he couldn't care less

 

Joe knew that Patrick and Pete had been writing together and fighting even more, but they always did and Joe got used to it. He'd come and go from work, the two of them disagreeing over the most tedious of things. Sometimes he'd join in, pick a side - usually Patrick's - and watch them fight some more. One day he came back from work to find Pete sitting in the living room with a pack of frozen peas held up to his bruised eye, feet up on the coffee table.

“Your boyfriend didn't like my lyrics,” Pete said, when Joe asked what the problem was. “He used to bitch that I never wrote about him, but now he thinks I have and he's mad. He's a fucking headcase.”

“Yeah okay. Thanks for ruining my night,” Joe said, turning on his foot and leaving the apartment. He knew where to find Patrick. There was an old park three blocks over and when they'd first got the apartment they used to go there, hang out together on the swing set and talk shit about the kind of rock stars they wanted to be and what they'd do with all the money in the world.

He saw Patrick sitting on the shortest swing, the one with the chains wrapped twice over the frame. It was rusted and tilted to the side, but it was the best one, even through the squeaking. Joe took a seat next to Patrick, feet flat on the soft surface beneath the swing. He wrapped his hands around the chains, pushing off gently with his feet scuffing the ground, face turned to Patrick.

“He wrote a song about me.” Patrick's soft profile was highlighted in the yellow streetlights, hat caught over his eyes and soft wispy hair trapped against his ears.

“It wasn't a good song?”

“Apparently, I wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slit my throat.” Joe always knew that Pete wrote betrayed love well even if, like, he was the faulty party.  “As if I broke his heart when--ugh, just fuck that dude. It was completely the other way around.”

“Did he tell you that the lyrics were about you?” Joe just wanted to make sure, before he got super offended on Patrick's behalf.

“I just knew.” Patrick sniffed, way more upset about this than Joe figured. “We've been fighting and he's been staring at me all weird and it was just obvious. My feelings for you are real and true and I'd like you to believe me. Sometimes it feels like you don’t”

“Of course I believe you.” It kinda warmed his spirits a little. Patrick wasn't as closed off as Pete seemed to insist, but he was way too much of a dreamer at times and Joe couldn't always see through the intensity. “Maybe it has more to do with, like, his feelings rather than yours.”

“That’s bullshit, Joe. And I'm not singing those fucking lyrics. I'm not giving him any of my music.” Patrick twisted in the swing, chains looping on the turn before he spun back around. “He doesn't deserve it.”

“Nah, you should.” Joe stood up and got behind Patrick, grabbing ahold of the cold, rusty chains of the swing, pulling him back before letting him go. Patrick laughed loosely, the shortened chains of the swing stopping his feet from breaking the swoop.

“Why should I? He's a dick,” Patrick said, tilting his head back, chin tilted to the sky until he could see Joe standing behind him. His eyes twinkled in the low light, beneath the hat and behind glasses. Joe slid his palms to Patrick's chest, stopping the movement.

“Well, like, I know Pete. He wants a reaction. He wrote those lyrics to piss you off, to rile you up whether he believes them or not.”

“Yeah, I punched him,” Patrick laughed all throaty and Joe smiled down at him. “Really hard.”

“I saw. I'm just thinking, if it hurt you to read what he wrote, it'd probably hurt him to hear you sing them because it's like. Reverse Psychology.” Patrick’s heart was beating fast beneath Joe's hands, not slowing down even when Joe rubbed his palms in soothing motions.

“We didn't do that at my school,” Patrick admitted, missing the point. He wasn’t stupid, but he was on another planet half the time, Joe knew that much.

“I just, like… you shouldn't let it get to you, the things he says. He says it all out of punishment, for himself really. I know him. I know Pete. You wanna hurt him back? Then give him the best fucking song you can.”

It seemed like a bad idea to go back to the apartment, so they went to Patrick's mom's house instead. She was excited to see them, kissing Patrick's cheeks and fussing at his hair like it was too long, but she left them alone after they ate dinner and they made the usual sludge up to Patrick's old bedroom.

Joe played around on an acoustic as Patrick pulled the lyrics Pete wrote out of his pocket. Joe winced, hearing Pete's bitterness through the lyrics. It was shitty to treat Patrick that way, but it was jealousy in its most basic form.

They recorded the song together over the next hour. Pete's bitterness sounded harsh in Patrick's clear voice and by the end, Joe was struck by the ownership Patrick had of the lyrics. With 99% of the lyrics since Pete took over, it always felt like Pete's words in Patrick's mouth; using him as a vessel in a way everyone knew.

This time it felt like Patrick's words, Patrick's spite, as he sang the words out over the guitar. Joe could see the relieving of tension across Patrick's face once they were done and they smiled at each other, Joe's fingers tingling from the strings as Patrick fell on the bed beside him.

“Better?” Joe asked, smiling when Patrick's thumb rested against his arm, against his dumb tattoo.

“Much better.” Patrick's eyes closed, wriggling in closer.

 

Pete acted totally cool over the song they recorded in Patrick's old bedroom, but he was obviously upset that he was one-upped with Joe's help. He said he'd keep the song for now, shove it on an EP maybe at some point, but it was probably for the best to keep it hidden beneath all the meaningless songs they already had and performed each gig.

As happy as he was that he fixed that particular issue with two of them, Joe was seriously fed up of the feeling that Patrick was never really his. He liked it before, maybe even before they got together, back when they would walk back from work and Joe would feel like a washing machine inside. When Patrick wasn't his, but he didn't feel like Pete's either.

So he figured, like, maybe for the good of the band and the fact they'll be in a van with no escape for the next forever, that he should just break it off. Patrick was amazing, but it just seemed easier. He didn't know when though. He didn't want to do it on the walk home from work because that was shitty. He wondered if taking him out on a date would be better, but it never was in the movies.

“Look what I got!” Joe jolted from his hovering in the door of Patrick's record store to the surprisingly peppy bounce of Patrick. He smiled, still kinda confused, but Patrick was smiling and bouncing.

“What?” Joe laughed, clutching Patrick's hand until he could see what was in it. “Another Jazz festival?”

“It's the same place as the last one. I thought we could go together, like I dunno. I know you hate jazz but--”

“I don't _hate_ jazz, I just don't get it on your level,” Joe said, trying to smile. Patrick's smile had dropped, like he was trying to suss something out, so Joe just threw an arm over his shoulder, dragging him out of the store. “Let's go watch some jazz.”

Joe figured maybe that night would be the best time to tell him. They could have fun and, like, maybe they'd both be upset, but Patrick was a rational dude, he'd understand.

“This festival basically got us together,” Patrick told him as they sat in the same place as last time, with the same drinks. Patrick was wearing a button down, he'd combed his hair. Joe held his hand and smiled at him.

“I guess it did, yeah.” Okay, so maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to break up there. It's not like Joe was super into the idea anyway. One more night together wouldn't hurt either of them.

Halfway through one song, when Joe was kinda dozing at the slow brass tunes, he opened his eyes to peek at Patrick. He had physical tears rolling down his cheeks, fingers playing along on his lap. When he caught Joe looking, he laughed, wiping at his face, shoulders turned in.

“No word of that to anyone,” Patrick said to Joe on the train home. He'd only cried through the one song, but like, he _cried._ Joe didn't know anyone that did that.

“You feel music on a whole different plane,” Joe pointed out the truth, stroking Patrick's face. He couldn't do it that night, couldn't do it when Patrick was as weepy on the outside as Joe felt on the inside.

“I guess. Downbeat horns just get to me like nothing else.” Patrick rubbed at his chest, biting his bottom lip. He shook himself out of the thoughts and then smiled up at Joe again. “We can go do something you like next time. I promise I won't cry at an Iron Maiden gig.”

“You're good, Patrick.” Joe pulled him in close, breathing in the smell of Patrick's hair as his nose pressed against him.

 

Joe felt like a fucking asshole for playing the role of boyfriend. He fucked Patrick, he cringed with him when they found condoms in his bedroom at his mom's house, placed knowingly if inconspicuously. They still hadn't used condoms. Joe liked it, enjoyed watching his come trail between Patrick's legs afterward. It was dirty in a way that he liked.

And, like, Joe was just confused. He was eighteen, and he just wanted to tour and play guitar in their pop punk band and hang out with his pretentious little boyfriend. It wasn't even like he felt as if Patrick would cheat. He was too open for that, but it didn't stop the uneasiness he felt around Pete and Patrick. He hated sitting there at night thinking about all the ways pete interfere in their relationship. It wouldn't work on the road, either. Joe wanted to throw himself into it, being on tour, trying new stuff and experiences. He wanted it like he wanted patrick, but maybe just that little bit more than he realized.

Pete hadn't creeped around watching them as far as Joe could tell, but he came home one day, a week before they left for the summer tour. They were having to give up their apartment; Joe had finished his job and Patrick was working his last shift. It felt like the end of an era, like nothing would ever be like this again.

“I know, okay?” Pete said, sitting beside Joe on the couch, joining him in staring at their fuzzy TV. “I know you're ending it with him. Don't do it on my behalf.” Joe laughed. Pete had left it maybe a little too late to act apologetic.

“I don't wanna do it at all, but I don't think I can cope in a van with you two. The way you guys are, that’s not how I want the next few months to go, so it’s just better like this.” Joe was upset with his decision, but at the same time he was ready for it. 

“Dude, we're not… we haven't.” Pete took a breath, like he had a lot to say. Honestly, he always did. “He's not like anyone else I ever dated and that's why I wanted him. Blonde and soft and so fucking cocky about music. I just couldn't pin him down as a person so I brought him into my personal sick little party.”

“That was a year ago, though,” Joe pointed out, but Pete shrugged, looking guilty as sin.

“I think… I think I was his first, like, love. He didn’t expect it and I don’t think he realized what it would be like.” Pete laughed like the whole thing was absurd. “We're always gonna have that kinda relationship. I'm always gonna tease him and want to hurt him because it hurts me and it's addictive. But we're never gonna have a _thing_.”

“I know you watched us. Watched us have sex.” Joe still wished he’d been, like, strong enough to call him out on it when it happened. But, like, Patrick had let it go just as easy, and that unsettled him even more.

“I was in a bad place.” Pete was such an asshole, but Joe couldn't deal with it now. Luckily, Pete's dickishness often fell to the way side when it came to Joe and he shrugged off  the excuse. “I wanted to see what I lost. He's improved, I gotta say. He learned to arch his back, learned to show himself off.”

“Self esteem, you know. He knew he wasn't your type and it got to him.”

“I know.” Pete swallowed. “I didn't want to break up with him, but I knew I'd fuck things up, so I fucked things up deliberately. But you guys work, you're happy together. Don't break up with him. Be happy together. Be kids in love because I couldn't have given him that even if I wanted.”

“I dunno, dude,” Joe sighed. All this was kinda like a brick on the middle of his chest. This time he knew a midnight trip to a diner with Patrick wouldn’t alleviate the pressure.

He told Patrick later that night. Pete was having dinner with his parents and it was just the two of them. Patrick was on a bummer after quitting his job and Joe was only gonna add to it, but the band mattered more to both of them.

“We need to talk,” Joe said, cutting off Patrick pointless rambling after his cold shower. Half their shit had already left the apartment, back in their parents until after the summer. They still had the couch though, and the cut-off cable. Patrick stared at Joe, clicking onto the conversation right away.

“I sort of don’t want to,” Patrick mumbled, thumbs playing beneath his chin nervously. “Only ‘cause I already know what you’re gonna say.”

Joe took  a deep breath. “I don’t wanna, but I feel like we should. You know? Like, it’s just not right anymore and we shouldn’t drag it on tour with us like extra baggage dragging everything down.”

“You think I cheated on you?” Patrick turned to Joe with the kind of fury he generally only held for Pete. It might have been hot, if they weren’t in the middle of breaking up.

“No, I know you haven’t,” Joe said. Be calm, he told himself. Don’t cry or anything. He wasn’t really a crier, but he was in love with Patrick so it sucked a lot.

“You think I _will_ cheat, then?”

“No, because you know what it feels like and you’re good.” Joe licked his lips, feeling like shit when he watched the fury fade from Patrick. He looked like a kicked puppy, all sad and soppy.

“I got a feeling you’ve been wanting to do this forever, only you never did and so I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Patrick said softly. Joe tugged at the metal in his lip, trying to forget how it felt to have Patrick tug at it. “Maybe I should have sex with Andy and let him dump me so I get the full fucking set.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m not doing this because I want to,” Joe said, trying to keep calm and keep the dramatics at bay. Dramatics were Pete's thing and he’d already damaged this relationship enough.

“Then why?”

“Because it’s fun and awesome when we’re together, but not enough for me to, like, enjoy seeing how you are with Pete. I feel like the third wheel, and I’m in the fucking relationship.” Joe watched Patrick stare at him like he was genuinely confused. It was part of the problem. “He’s left his mark all over you and you don’t realize.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want him, and it’s just you,” Patrick said, looking at Joe with red eyes. If Patrick started crying, like, _properly_ , then Joe thinks he might too. 

“The thing is, like, you shouldn’t have to keep telling me and I should be okay with this, with you guys, but I’m not, so that’s why we need to cool it. We could just be friends again, like before.”

“I don’t wanna be just friends. I can’t even quit the band now because I’m too invested,” Patrick said, giving up on asking Joe anymore questions. “I just quit a job I loved. Oh, fuck.” He threw his head back, eyes shut. Joe didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. “My dad was right about _everything.”_

Joe laughed, because, yeah. Band dudes were terrible and he was one of them. Patrick wasn’t laughing with him though, he was just staring up at their damp ceiling, corners of his mouth down-turned and his lashes wet.

“I need to not see you for a few days, I think. Yeah,” Patrick nodded his head at his own words. “If I don’t see you for a few days I might get over it quicker.”

“You got over Pete in a few weeks. We can give each other space.” Joe wanted to rewind, to never have had this conversation because it was wrong and he wanted to tour the Midwest with Patrick, runaway after gigs and get lost in strange cities together, listening to him talk about jazz and Elvis Costello and whatever his new obsession would be. The thought of doing that with anyone else seemed exhausting.

“You’re not Pete,” Patrick said softly, sounding bored of the words as he stood up. Joe watched him close the door to his bedroom. The brick on top of his chest didn’t clear despite the breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to move into his own empty room.

 

Patrick didn’t come out of his bedroom for a few days, but Pete was in there with him a lot. Joe felt like Pete played a decent part in the failure of their relationship, but he didn’t say anything. Andy was pissed that they’d fallen apart so close to the start of the tour, but Joe just told him it was better now than halfway across the country, hungry and more desolate than they already were.

“Do you think they’ll get together?” Joe asked Andy when they were ten minutes into their supposed tour start. Patrick and Pete were still in the apartment doing the handover to the landlord.

“Not if they’re smart. They didn’t work out twice before and Patrick’s pretty in love with you.” Andy said, fingers tapping on the wheel in the driver’s seat. Joe was sitting passenger side so he didn’t have to talk to Patrick right away. They hadn’t spoken or really looked at each other since the breakup. If space was what Patrick needed, then Joe would give it to him. Looking at him made Joe bummed out anyway, almost regretting his decision a little too much.

“I’m still, like… he means a lot to me,” Joe said. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

“Maybe. You’ll figure it out, but you’re both really young. You have time.”

“You could try him out, make it really incestuous in the band.” Joe didn’t mean anything by the joke and Andy knew that, laughing as he tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Pretentious teenagers aren’t my thing.” He ducked his head to check to see whether the others were coming before he continued. “Pete knows he did a lot of collateral damage to your relationship. He’s sorry for it and he should be. Just let him deal with Patrick and then when he’s ready you guys can rebuild your friendship or whatever you want.”

“I wanna be with him, just not like it was.”

Being on tour was crazy. He’d been on a few in the past, but he’d been a real kid back then with no toes in the real world. Now he had nothing to his name, not even an apartment, but it was fun. Patrick didn’t talk to him much, so Joe decided to leave it behind once and for all. He couldn’t see them together outside of the bubble of their apartment anyway, their whole existence seemed stuck in  the crux between kids and adults.

So Joe got more tattoos and he took out his lip ring because it wasn’t any fun without Patrick’s teeth pulling at it. Sometimes they got motel rooms, but usually it was the four of them sleeping in their van, making friends and enemies along the way. Joe stopped bothering with edge; picked up weed and a few girls along the way, but it didn’t mean anything, not like his nights walking home from work with Patrick, or the alleyway blow jobs after gigs they'd soon forgotten.

One night, when they were in the middle of some state; some city that reminded him of home, with shredded fingers and no clean clothes, Patrick sat beside Joe in the van. The other two were grabbing them a room for the night; they’d clubbed together enough money for one night of cheap indulgence.

“I’m okay now,” Patrick said. He was into Bowie at the moment, in a big way. Joe could see the badge pinned to his denim jacket and it made him smile. Made him miss the talk of Bill Evans and jazz festivals in coffee shops. “I’m okay with what you did.”

“You know it was inevitable, right?” Joe said, waiting for Patrick to nod before he felt an ounce of relief. “I've lost the way I felt about you on this tour. I didn't mean to.”

“I knew even back then, but it doesn’t stop it hurting, you know? That last part... I can try and do the same.” Patrick’s hands were splayed out on his own knees. He looked different now. Maybe Joe was seeing him in a new light. “I think we’re actually gonna get famous and it scares me because sometimes all I wanna do is go back to the way things were before. When you thought I was lame for staying with my mom every Wednesday and crying over jazz music.”

“I still think you’re lame for those things,” Joe said, but he missed it just as much. “Doesn’t stop me thinking the same.”

“Do you still think about the milkmaid?” Patrick whispered, as if there was anyone to hear him but Joe. It made him laugh, but in the way that only holding back a breath stopped him from crying.

“I do.” Not as much anymore, just as he didn’t really think of Patrick like that anymore. They were together and they were good, but they were over with and they couldn’t go back to that place. There wasn’t gonna be an apartment or boring jobs for them to play that existence out to.

“I think she would be happy, too. With the comedian and her pet cow, I think they’re happy.” Patrick paused, eyebrows pulling inwards. “I haven’t told my mom we broke up yet, but I might do it tonight. I think it’s time, now I know it's for definite.” Patrick was fumbling and gesticulating in an over the top way. He was compensating for his wild emotions, but Joe understood that. He hadn't figured that Patrick wasn't sold completely on the break up, but at least they were clear now. “Also, you should know that I’m never letting anyone dump me again. Not that person anymore.”

“That’s good, Patrick.” Joe smiled, but he was sad all over. Talking to Patrick about this was ruining his night, taking him back to what was only, like, two months ago, but seemed forever away. “We should be happy for each other.”

“Yeah, very happy.” Patrick smiled, but then went back to patting down his pockets, his bag and then just sliding open the door to the van. “I feel like they’re taking forever, so I’m just gonna go and see what all--”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Joe said, taking pity on Patrick and his emotions. Joe was sad, but he was a bottler. He’d always keep his emotions close, like he did all of Pete’s secrets. They’d both be alright in the long run. “Go do what you need to.”

“I’m okay, really,” Patrick said, nodding his head. He’d gained a little weight in the past month or so, but it suited him. Joe wouldn’t tell him, but he liked it. “I’m sad, but I’m okay.”

“Sad but okay is good,” Joe agreed. “I think it kinda sums all of us up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to end on a happier note but then it didn't...oops


End file.
